


Bruh mine

by RoughTweedAction (Donya)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF Mycroft, Gen, High! High! Both high!, Humour, PWP pot what pot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 03:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10549408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donya/pseuds/RoughTweedAction
Summary: Sherlock is conducting an experiment that involves weed brownies and an unsuspecting Mycroft.





	

Sherlock hummed as he cooked Mrs Hudson's weed in the butter. He stirred the leaves carefully and after a couple of minutes took the pan off the gas and removed the leaves and stems. He added the THC-infused butter to the brownie mix and gave it a good stir.

His goal was to establish how fast a person who never tried weed can get high from a weed brownie. It was related to one of his cases... that he solved... in 2001. Obviously, he was not the right candidate for the experiment. Molly, John, Mrs Hudson, the Homeless Network, even Lestrade did not qualify either. It had to be Mycroft, the fatty would wolf down an entire batch without asking questions. However, given the tension between them after the Sherrinford adventure, Mycroft could be suspicious of that unexpected brotherly gesture. That inspired Sherlock to bake another batch, sans weed but with another unusual addition. He heard of brownies with spinach, black bean, sweet potato, chickpeas and zucchini. Mycroft had always hated carrot cake and was personally offended by potato doughnuts. Well, then. Sherlock maliciously shredded two zucchinis and added that to another brownie mix. People stop looking after three, unless they have a sweet tooth, then they stop after one.

When both batches were baked and cooled a bit, Sherlock cut the brownies into neat squares to appeal to Mycroft's OCD and distract him from his sudden passion for baking. He considered calling Mycroft, but the element of surprise was his advantage. He chose the late evening to go to Mycroft's house and he even knocked like a civilised person that he wasn't.

Mycroft barely hid his joy. He assumed Sherlock would never forgive him all his lies and deceptions. Sherlock did forgive him and the ~~poisoned apple~~ drugged brownies were only a part of his experiment... that was not at all necessary.

'Now, what is the trick?' Mycroft asked incuriously as Sherlock put both trays on the table. He had mixed the two types of brownies and each tray contained both the weed and the vegetable ones. He knew which was which, Mycroft did not. But it was all for the greater good and a few giggles.

'Mrs Hudon baked them,' he lied, as there had to be something wrong, Mycroft was too paranoid to accept the lack of danger. 'She did not spit into the batter if that's what you think. I'll eat, too.'

He picked a zucchini one and bit into it with enthusiasm. Delicious and moist. Worth all that tedious shredding and losing two fingernails. His delighted expression calmed Mycroft. He also chose a vegetable one and instantly spit the tiny morsel out.

'Good God, are you trying to poison me?' He choked out. 'Zucchini?!'

Sherlock smirked and explained that only half of the brownies were slightly healthy. 'The other one is safe. Just a little joke, brother dear.'

Mycroft quickly distinguished between the two types. He ate a few weed ones without the shortest interruption or the smallest sign of distrust. 'Good,' he declared and reached for more.

Sherlock casually put the kettle on. They devoured the brownies like barbarians and sipped tea like gentlemen. To Sherlock's amusement, Mycroft began to chuckle without a reason after only a quarter of an hour. He was so weak and unused to narcotics, typical Mycroft, always had to be the grown-up and never went through the rebellious phase. An occasional cigarette was as far as he was willing to go.

When there were only dark crumbs left, Mycroft continued his weird laughing and Sherlock involuntarily joined him. He had tried to stick to the zucchini, but Mycroft was so observant, So it happened. They both got high. High! High!

'Damn, that was good,' Mycroft meant to point to the empty trays but got distracted and focused on studying his hand. He was so fascinated by his five plump fingers and his ring that forgot about Sherlock altogether and was shocked when Sherlock asked him how was he feeling. 'Feeling?' Mycroft considered. 'Relaxed, I think. I haven't felt this way since Mummy said I was going to be a big brother.'

'Good for you,' Sherlock assured him and glanced down at his wristwatch. It appeared that it was high o'clock. He forgot whether or not he intended to measure the time of Mycroft's 'good mood'. Not that it mattered. They were both in, well, high spirits and Sherlock wanted to fully absorb the experience. They used to be so close until Mycroft became so contemptuous of him.

'Brother, I love you,' Mycroft confessed and the unusual straightforwardness and the serious tone convinced Sherlock that it was not a cruel joke. Finally! The decades of speculations were over.

'I love you, too,' Sherlock replied in a small voice.

'I mean it,' Mycroft insisted cheerily. 'Even though you're such a troublemaker. Even though you care only about yourself. Even though you never take my emotions and my well-being into consideration. No, because Sherlock has to do what he wants, regardless of the consequences and someone has to protect him because this precious little boy cannot take any responsibility for his actions.'

Oh.

'Since we are talking openly, tell me something about yourself. How is your... How is Miss Adler?'

Sherlock's face and neck flushed, he was mortified by the idea of discussing his sex life with Mycroft. It was bad enough that Mycroft was aware of the second faked death. He probably knew what happened later. One near-death experience led to another and it was not just sharing a room with an unmarried woman in Pakistan. Sherlock had a chance to experience _la petite mort_ and oddly enough, never felt more alive.

'Erm... She is... still not dead.'

'Good. I have heard a lot about her from the most reliable source. Woody, so curious and sexually adventurous, did have two sessions with Miss Adler. Sherlock, please remember to use protection and have a safe word. And make sure she isn't using regular candles.'

'Candles? What for?' Sherlock asked slowly, not wanting to know the answer. 'Wait, Woody? Lord Smallwood?'

Mycroft smiled broadly. 'No, the other one.'

'Lady? Lady Smallwood?'

Mycroft nodded, looking very satisfied with the mental image of the no-nonsense English rose and the dominatrix. Sherlock was discomfited by the whole situation. It was not so obvious that Irene had the upper hand. Also, the affectionate nickname and the disturbingly honest confessions.... What exactly was going on between Mycroft and 'Woody'?

'James Moriarty was also one of her clients,' Mycroft added with a mysterious smile. 'He liked it so much he claimed only his death would stop him from seeing her. Well, I freed him from Adler's clutches.'

'What on earth? You could not have killed him. He committed suicide, right in front of me!' Sherlock protested.

'I was merciful, he didn't suffer.'

Mycroft's light tone and wide smile terrified Sherlock more than he was willing to admit, even to himself. 'But you got sick when the governor... you were too weak to kill him- oh, God. That was a lie.'

Mycroft grinned creepily. 'Wonderful deduction, little brother. I am, however, disappointed that you did not predict the fourth task. It was so obvious from the start and yet you obediently danced to Eurus's tune. Do you know why I chose to play the role of the sentimental weakling?'

'You wanted Eurus to think she was in control, that she beat you,' Sherlock muttered, more and more wary of his brother. 'While in fact, it is you who control her.'

Mycroft was pleased with the answer. 'Well done. I am the smart one of this family, have I mentioned that already?'

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably. 'I think it's high time I went home.'

Mycroft leant in closer, glaring at him threateningly. 'Do you really think I will let you leave?' His hand was getting closer and closer to Sherlock's face. The next second, Mycroft gripped Sherlock's right ear and pulled. The shock was greater than the pain. 'Now listen to me. Has it never crossed your mind that I know the taste of marijuana? How else would I cope with two mad siblings and the most annoying parents of all times?'

Sherlock panted and tried to push Mycroft away. He succeeded only because Mycroft let him. Sherlock curled up on the chair, rocking back and forth. He did regret his foolish experiment. Mycroft resumed his evil laughter, did not stop even when he was ordering a frightening amount of takeaways. 'He he he, yes, extra cheese, please.' 


End file.
